


Over the Edge

by Phaser



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Gen, Minor Character Death, Mob Experimentation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Will Update as Characters Appear, dystopian au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24912127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phaser/pseuds/Phaser
Summary: The beginning. Way before humanity became humane once again. Far before the seemingly winning cards were torn into shreds and tossed into the nearest garbage dump to rot.Far before humanity even had a chance against itself and a scorched world of its own creation.The pages are turning. Handwriting’s pretty atrocious, but they still turn.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Over the Edge

The room was a cool, pristine white, ridiculously spotless enough that it almost singed his eyes. The blankness was blinding, if not irritating as hell. Bdubs huffed as he was led to one of the two vacant chairs on the middle of the room, frowning at how perfectly white they happened to be as well. 

Somehow, they’d made stripped birch logs look about as appealing as the rest of the room. Even sitting on it almost felt like he was stepping into one of those shower booths providing water with inhumane temperatures - too cold to not be hot. It was strange they somehow managed to express the sensation of all those terrible showers through the simple visual of a clean room. 

Bdubs had always been convinced that hell had a special place for him ever since the beginning, and he figured it probably looked a little something like this.

He adjusted his bandanna, which had slipped down in the commotion that was the three guards shoving him through the halls like some kind of mannequin that couldn’t walk on its own. ‘Course, the last time they’d done this, he’d almost tackled the one guard escorting him to the dining hall to the ground, but they’d caught him. 

It was almost sad, how they needed two more guards to keep him under control. He allowed himself a little bit of satisfaction at that, because that feeling only showed up sparingly. Too scarce a resource, and yet so important. 

The place he lived in, it was probably Tartarus. Nicely decked out, clean, fucking white like a racist prick, but it did nothing to quell the figurative hellfire blazing through the air, cutting through everything in its path. The atmosphere was sick, almost like a hospital, but there were more injuries involved if anything. 

It was a miracle he was still kickin’, after everything. Bdubs had pissed off a lot of important people in his time. He was lucky they decided he was worth another shot, his twenty-seventh, if his math wasn’t that bad. 

Huh. 

He was well on his way into the 27 Club, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a honorable mention. Cobain would have nothing on Bdubs’ track record.

He blinked as he looked around the room, gaze focusing the best it could, but it remained quite pathetic. 

He still couldn’t make out where the corners of the room were, but he could see that the double-sided mirrored wall was the same as always. Bdubs had always swore that he could almost hear the professors and experts running up and down the control room, and snickered at the thought even today. Nothing ever changed.

They still hadn’t told him what creature he was going to be talking to today. Knowing his own luck, Bdubs guessed it was probably another Enderman, even though the last one had almost killed him. 

They had a penchant for giving him the homicidal ones to deal with. Or that was just him. He didn’t really know. They never told him anything about his performance that he already didn’t know.

Eh, he’d escaped by the skin of his teeth last time, but he’d gotten out nonetheless. The officials didn’t like their human toys getting dirty, so he wasn’t that afraid. They’d pull Bdubs out, even if it was at the last minute and potentially caused him PTSD for the rest of his miserable life. Assholes didn’t even give him a therapist for all the trauma, but they could get him a half-decent ice-pack. Typical.

The Enderman hadn’t even seemed homicidal at first. He was pretty sure it was the woman’s voice which had set it off, but he didn’t say anything to the people watching him twitch in his seat through the mirrored glass wall. 

They told him it was triple-layered, enforced glass. Bdubs wondered what they would do if he tried to break it.

“Human Catalyst 100. In position.” The woman’s voice sounded like rusted nails against a centuries-old chalkboard, and he winced as he loosened his red bandanna so it covered his ears. Bdubs had always wondered what it would be like pouring oil down the woman’s maw for once. Maybe it would fix her god-awful tone.

He was lost in that thought, fingers clenching around the ends of the wooden armrests hard enough that it would leave some trace amounts of grime behind. 

Nothing sounded out for a few minutes. The silence wafted around like a thin mist as Bdubs idly tapped at the surface under the armrest, making sure to keep it erratic enough that it wasn’t a rhythm. 

They didn’t like music. They didn’t like rhythm. 

They did, however, like torturing the fuck out of people, which Bdubs would argue wasn’t that far off from music, but he’d sound like a lunatic. And if there was an Arkham Asylum in these parts, it was the clinic way downstairs. No one ever came back from the clinic way downstairs. 

While death was a nice alternative, Bdubs wanted to go down fighting. And hell if he wasn’t gonna bring down the whole house of cards with him.

He slumped in on himself, slouching in a way which he knew irked the professors and officials. But they couldn’t do anything about it that he already didn’t expect. He’d even flash the finger their way if it didn’t mean that there would be consequences.

Just then, the door on the opposite end of the room opened. His half-lidded gaze flicked up towards it, lazy and bored. 

What he saw next had his eyebrows shoot up for a few seconds.

The first thing Bdubs noticed was the green complexion. He racked his brain for all the green mobs he had seen, and almost sits up in realization.

It’s a creeper. A humanoid creeper.

The first of its kind. 

What the fuck did he do receive this?

The creeper was clearly part human. It had legs, sure. Arms, yeah. A face that had some human features. A plain white tee, just like the one he had on. Dark blue jeans that ran down to its ankles. Black and light-blue basketball kicks. That was normal.

What wasn’t was the fact that it was walking about as normally as a walrus with no limbs. 

It stumbled towards the chair, holding what seemed to be walking aids in each hand, redstone-operated. It was standard protocol for only the Test Subjects to enter the room, so no one could help the poor creeper. He almost felt bad for sitting and watching, but he liked his existence thank you very much.

“Subject M77 in position.” And even the creeper looked annoyed, or maybe that was just Bdubs reading too much into it. But no, the subject had a creased brow and seemed to be restraining itself from reaching up and covering its ears. 

He almost let out a snicker at that. This one was far too human.

“Begin procedure.” A man said this time, voice about as smooth as the bright, white floor of the room.

Bdubs blinked. 

“Hi,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> First fic here, hope it works. 
> 
> Side note, updates will be random. I do have a definitive path for where this is heading, but RL’s not so organized. 
> 
> And hey, if you made it this far, chances are you liked it. A comment about why you did would be really appreciated! Thanks for reading.


End file.
